


Psimon Says

by SkyRook575



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control, Not Beta Read, One-Sided Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul, Psimon - Freeform, Tim Drake Has a Bad Time, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake-centric, we die like robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:02:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyRook575/pseuds/SkyRook575
Summary: Tim who was his son. His son. Tim who he loved so much, with everything he had. Tim who-Tim who had shown up on his door step one day. Who had refused to leave no matter how many times Bruce tried to get rid of him. Who refuse to stay in his place. Tim who made himself a liability that had to be picked up so that he didn’t get hurt. Tim who had only been a place holder for Jason, who was irritating and all wrong. Not who he wanted him to be.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul
Comments: 29
Kudos: 424
Collections: Best of the Batfamily





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, the non con will come in briefly at the end of the story. There will be an additional warning at the beginning of that chapter.

It was a slow night in Gotham. A slow week, really. Never a good sign, Bruce thought as he dodged the punch thrown at him. Bad things tended to happen once the city began to settle. He loved Gotham City, it was his home, but it was a city full of wicked people and hateful things, and it never allowed him to rest for very long.

Taking a half turn, he brought his leg up and dispatched one of the thugs while simultaneously taking stock of those that were left. Three behind him, one in front. The take down would be simple. Years of constant battle with the big bad of the city made petty gang members a piece of cake. 

Batman prided himself on working in the silence and the shadows, blending into the darkness of the city. Never seen until he wanted to be seen. But Bruce had to admit, if only to himself, that he had become accustom the chatter of his various partners in his ear. Dick was such a talkative child. When he had first come on as Robin, Bruce had been driven mad by his inability to keep quiet, but over time the Batman had grown fond of the endless stream of sound. Jason was less talkative, and that had required another adjustment for Bruce. He was wittier, startling laughter out of Bruce at the most inconvenient moments. The criminals in Gotham had quaked in fear when Batman had begun to laugh at them. Apparently it was rather unsettling. Tim was so small when he started. Silent and timid and scared. Afraid to make any sudden movement or sound. He had been trying so hard and he was so young. It was painful to watch him keep himself in check. One night on patrol, Bruce had asked him about some science project he was working on for school and the kid had lit up like a Christmas tree, going on and on about the Krebs Cycle, eventually he had stopped himself short, apologies that broke Bruce's heart spilling from his lips. Through time and effort, Bruce had managed to draw him out until he felt comfortable enough to share without filtering himself. And Bruce had discovered someone who was silly and kind. Damian scoffed at him often, but Bruce wasn't complaining. From what he had heard from Dick, it had taken months to coax Damian into speaking freely with those that he admired. His youngest hardly ever kept his opinion to himself, but there had been some fear of speaking out of turn when he had been initially brought into their family. 

At some point over the years that constant stream of noise went from being grating on his nerves to the only thing that soothed them. From an annoyance to a sign that his children were safe and well. Mentally, he ticked off the reasons the line was so dead tonight.

The last breakout at Arkham had been close to a month ago. By now all the criminals were safely back in their cells, getting the help they needed. That left two-bit criminals and gangs the only things to thwart during the nights. Dick and Barbara had requested the night off, allowing themselves a short reprieve together due to the decreased crime rates. When Steph and Cass had heard that Barbara and Dick got the night off for personal reasons, they had demanded that they, too, needed time for “sister bonding” and “girl things that were none of his business, thank you very much.” Bruce assumed that they were having a movie night at Steph’s apartment. The Red Hood was out of town with the Outlaws. Bruce and Jason had been on better terms recently, in large part because of Tim. His period in the time-stream had somehow pulled his two boys together and forged an unbreakable bond between them. After Tim had rescued him, he noticed an increase in visits to both the cave and the manor. Jason never announced himself prior to his visits, preferring instead to just appear lounging in a room, pestering his siblings, or baking in the kitchen. Knowing that Jason now felt comfortable enough to rejoin their family had lifted a weight off of Bruce that he had been carrying for so long he hadn’t even noticed it was there until it was gone. 

Damian was off at the Kent Farm for the weekend. Him and Jon were practically inseparable these days, and Bruce suspected that there was more going on between them than his son was willing to tell him. That made two of his sons potentially involving themselves with Clark’s litter of supers, though he had not heard much from Tim about how things were with Kon lately. Either way, he was overjoyed that Damian had someone his own age who he actually seemed to like. It was a rare occurrence that his youngest took a liking to anyone, even his own siblings had been an uphill battle. But Jon seemed to soothe something in the boy that nothing Bruce had ever done had been able to reach. Duke was staying with his parents, and besides, he favored the day shift. Bruce attempted to give it to him whenever possible.

That just left Tim. Red Robin was supposed to be on patrol with him tonight, but upon arriving at the cave, Tim had looked so run down and tired that Bruce had simply refused to allow him out. It was a sign of just how out of it Tim was that he had permitted Bruce to lead him upstairs to his bedroom. Since Bruce had come back eight months ago, Tim had been no where to be found. After pulling Bruce out of the time-stream Tim had hugged him for so long he had begun to think his son simply wouldn’t ever let go. They had talked for a bit, mostly Bruce asking Tim about his new costume and new role. Questions Tim not so smoothly dodged. Bruce had figured that he could get answers out of the boy once the shock had worn off. Eventually, he had suggested the two of them head home. He had been so anxious to see the rest of his family that he must have missed something. Bruce had been so sure that Tim had been just as relieved as him to be heading back to the manor, right up until Tim didn’t follow him through the zeta tube. 

Bruce had sat in the Batcave for five minutes staring at the zeta tube, waiting for his son to appear. When he hadn’t, Bruce had logged into the Batcomputer and contacted the watchtower. Only to have the Flash tell him Red Robin had punched in the coordinates for San Francisco. Bruce had hung up, a million questions racing through his head, why hadn’t Tim followed him? Why would he work so hard to get him back only to abandon him immediately? Why hadn’t any of his other children been there when Tim had pulled him out of the time-stream? Bruce had gone to get answers from his other children, and to reunite with his family, with a heavy heart. To this day, he still didn’t have the full story. Dick talked about his time away, but left major holes in his story, whenever Tim was mentioned Damian either shut down or made hateful commentary that had to be addressed, derailing his questioning. Jason and Cass always told him he needed to ask Tim, and he would have. Only, Tim never came home anymore. Almost never stopped by the cave, never seemed to be by himself when Bruce was around, and never allowed himself to be swept into a private conversation. It was infuriating. Tonight was supposed to be a chance to speak with him, but Tim had barely been able to hold himself up when he had arrived. Once Batman finished at this warehouse, Bruce fully intended to sit at his sons bedside until he woke so that they could finally talk, that is, if Tim didn’t sneak out the window before he made it back home.

Turning, Batman launched a Batarang at the thug in front of him, not waiting to see the inevitable impact, he brought his foot up with his momentum and slammed it down onto the back of the second mans shin. He heard the crack of the bone followed by the sounds of the first man crumpling to the ground. Bringing his knee up, he slammed it into the face of the second gangster, most assuredly breaking his nose. Then, he swept to the right, avoiding the lead pipe swung at his back by the woman behind him. He hooked his foot to the back of her ankle, causing her to loose her balance. When she began to wobble, he grabbed her outstretched arm and tanked hard and back until he felt it pop out of it's socket. She screamed, and he swung her around into the last goon. The two of them knocked heads and the woman crumbled to the ground. The man, however, shook the hit off and made a quick advance on the Batman. Not quick enough. Bruce pulled out his bolas, swinging it around quickly before launching it at the mans feet. He tripped, and once he was down on the floor Bruce was above him, holding down on his windpipe until the man passed out. 

Quickly and efficiently, Batman checked the vitals of all the thugs before securing them with handcuffs. a quick alert to GCPD, and Batman was pulling out his grapple, ready to make his way out through the skylight window he had come in from. It was time to call it a night, he hadn't run into more than your average mugger all evening and he had more important matters to attend to. The police could handle the criminals in Gotham tonight, and if anything went wrong he was sure he would get an alert almost immediately. Raising his arm up to shoot his line, the Batman took aim, but was stopped in his track at the sound of a voice echoing from behind him.

“Psimon says, freeze.” 

Instantly every muscle in his body was frozen, no longer obeying him. He tried to turn his head, an uncomfortable feeling opening in his stomach at the thought of how vulnerable this position left him, but try as he might the only thing he had the power to move in his own body was his eyes. Psimon, the voice had called itself. Dr. Simon Jones. A medium level villain with telepathic and limited telekinetic abilities. Most often coming in contact with the Teen Titans. Tim had called him after the first time they had tangled with him. He had been shaken, saying that his orders had felt different than any other telepathic control he had come in contact with. He had told Bruce how his orders had made him feel, how the thoughts weren’t like an invader’s thoughts that you wanted to listen to, as was typical of mind control, but that they felt like they were your idea. How Tim had been convinced at the time that he wanted the villain to get away, how fighting the other Titans to allow for the doctor's retreat had seemed perfectly reasonable to him. So far, Tim’s analysis was proving inaccurate, but he knew his boy too well to doubt him. Tim tended to downplay how awful things could be, if what he said about his encounter was anything to go by, Bruce would have to be very careful during whatever interaction Psimon had planned for him.

Footsteps fell behind him, not directly, a little to his left, an attack from the back with that approach seemed unlikely. Less likely in the fact that it would be pointless, he was already frozen in place. Just then, Psimon came into his field of vision, his brain visible behind it’s glass case. “Truly, I expected the Batman to be more difficult. A pity, you couldn’t live up to your reputation.” Psimon crooned at him with a smirk, “Psimon says, go to sleep.”  


Everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

“Psimon says, wake up.”

Batman snapped to attention instantly. He was shackled to the wall in a different warehouse than the one he had been knocked out in. Directly in front of him stood Psimon, holding his utility belt in his porcelain hand. Okay, he was working with someone. Nothing in his file suggests he would be able to remove the Batman’s utility belt, even with his telekinesis. Doing a quick sweep of the ground, Batman noticed a minuscule movement outside the window. Nothing else gave away the presence of other people. Ninjas. League of Assassins. Ra’s was behind this. Probably waiting to make a dramatic entrance, as per usual. Batman had two options, play along with Psimon and try to get as much information out of the lower level henchman as possible or give away his only leverage and let Ra’s know he was on to him, but be able to draw plan straight out of the man himself. Ra’s did love the sound of his own voice. Of course, there was always the fact that Psimon might be re-

“My, you are good. I’m impressed. You can come out now, he knows you’re here.” Psimon practically purred when he spoke. Any of his boys were sure to have made a comment about how creepy he was, if they were to have been here. Stephanie, of course, would have been pretending to throw up because of his exposed brain. None of his children seemed capable of taking these situations seriously.

The door to his right opened and out stepped Ra’s in what Dick referred to as his “stupid holier than thou” cloak. “Detective. I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve summoned you here tonight.” Right, because this was, in fact, Ra’s Al Ghul’s attempt at politeness. And the Diana had the nerve to tell him he was rude. “What, exactly, did you need to meet with me about, Ra’s?” It took all of Bruce’s strength not to sigh. Tim was going to leave before he got home for sure. Ra’s never made his visits quick. And he had been so close to getting to sit down and talk with him about all that transpired while he was in the time stream.

“Straight to the point, Detective? Fine, you know my network of spies keeps an especially close eye on your lot. I have been… informed that quite a large rift has been established between you and young Timothy.” Ra’s smirked at him from his place next to Psimon. He was trying to gauge a reaction out of Bruce, but the Batman was determined not to give him the satisfaction, even if his heart sunk down to the bottom of his stomach at the realization that this was about one of his children. 

“You see,” Ra’s continued, “I have always had a, shall we say, special interest in the young detective. Most of your brood is weak. Over emotional. Not willing to do what needs to be done. Not capable of seeing the bigger picture. Even my own grandson in such a short time in your household has become a disappointment to me. But Timothy has always shined where the others have fallen so incredibly short. I have seen up close what he is capable of. In addition, I have always been curious about one particular area he may excel in.” Bruce didn’t like the way he talked about Tim, how he said his name like a caress. There was a predatory glint in his eye that unlocked something protective deep in Bruce. Part of him wanted to punch that slight smile off of Ra’s smug face, and the other part wanted to take Tim and lock him away someplace safe where no one would ever look at him like that again.

Dick had told him that Tim had saved Wayne Enterprises, and that he in turn had saved Tim from Ra’s. But Dick hadn’t known about how that situation had come to pass. No one had. Except Tim who he had been able to talk to, dammit!

“I intend to take him off your hands for you.” A rage sparked in Bruce so fierce he was almost glad he was shackled, or else who knew what he might do to Ra’s, who was so old he probably thought his disgusting sexual attachment to his son, a seventeen-year-old child, was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything about the nature Ra’s interest in Tim made him sick to his stomach. His rage comparable only to the twinge of fear that he desperately tried to squash. “Don’t you dare touch my son.” He growled, pulling hard against his restraints. “If you touch a hair on his head, Ra’s, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.” 

Bruce took a deep breath. He couldn’t afford to be overly emotional right now. Not if one of his children hung in the balance. He had to keep his head clear. Find out what Ra’s was up to. He couldn’t protect Tim from a threat he didn’t see coming, an attack he didn’t know about.

His outburst seemed to be the exact reaction Ra’s was hoping for. “From the reports I’ve received, I had assumed that you had cut all familial ties to the boy. The two of you have hardly been seen together since your oh so fortunate reappearance. Besides, by the end of the night, the boy will come with me willingly. He’ll have nowhere else to go.” The fear in Bruce sparked anew, his eyes sliding to Psimon. “That’s your plan? To keep me out of the way while you have your pet here convince my son that he wants to go with you? I thought even you were above the lose of free will.” Yes, Ra’s relished in the intentional forfeit of power. He wanted everyone around them to choose to kneel at his feet, he wanted the knowledge that they believed he was their better. 

Of all the reactions Bruce had calculated to his response, laughter had been pretty low on the list. But there Ra’s was, laughing at him. “Oh no, Detective. I’m not going to convince Timothy to come with me…you are.” 

Dread settled back into the pit of Bruce’s stomach. “Psimon here has a few suggestions about your ‘son’ that I think you’ll find are quite agreeable.” Psimon glided forward and Bruce strained harder against his chains. They had no locks. They had blow torched the metal together around his wrist. Still, he struggled to yank them out of the concrete wall. He would not be part of a scheme that drove his son into the arms of Ra’s Al Ghul. 

Willingly or otherwise.

Psimon opened his mouth, and when he spoke his voice was the most soothing thing Bruce had ever heard. Soft as silk. Promises of comfort and safety. But the words he said were poison that would haunt him for the rest of his days. Words that may manage to take away his son.

“Psimon says Timothy Drake is not your son. Timothy Drake is a nuisance who turned up at your door one day, who you couldn’t turn away because of your precious morality. Psimon says you don’t need him, don’t want him, anymore now that your real family is finally whole again. Psimon says he’s worthless, and you can’t wait to go home and toss him out like the trash that he is.” 

Bruce almost never wanted to weep while in uniform. The point of Batman was to do what Bruce couldn’t, be strong where he couldn’t, but his heart felt so heavy, filled with dread and fear and stone. He could feel the commands settle over him but refused to allow them in. He wouldn’t do this to his son. Tim was the best of them. Smart, funny, so full of hope. Bruce needs Tim. Wants him. His son who he loves with everything he has. His son, who had sacrificed his normal life at such a young age because he wanted to help, because he believed it was the right thing to do. Tim who never hesitated to lend a hand. Tim who never complained, especially not if he thought his suffering was helping someone else. Selfless, brave, painfully smart. Tim who calculated every risk and never moved too soon. Who loved photography and had filled his lonely manor with picture of love and laughter and life. Tim who thought so little of himself, who had been pulling away from him already. Tim who was his son. His son. Tim who he loved so much, with everything he had. Tim who-

Tim who had shown up on his door step one day. Who had refused to leave no matter how many times Bruce tried to get rid of him. Who refuse to stay in his place. Tim who made himself a liability that had to be picked up so that he didn’t get himself hurt. Tim who had only been a place holder for Jason, who was irritating and all wrong for the part. Not who he wanted him to be. A disappointment every time Bruce set eyes on him. A constant reminder of what he had lost who wouldn’t just leave him alone. Tim who wasn’t needed anymore now that the person he had been replacing had returned. Tim who added nothing to their family now that Bruce had Dick and Jason and Damian. Tim who was invading his home right now like a parasite even though he was no longer Bruce’s problem. He was emancipated, Dick had told him when he was filling him in on all that he missed, they were finally rid of Tim, who was a pest, but he felt the need to come crawling back. Enough was enough. It was time Bruce did something to rid themselves of the obnoxious Robin wannabe that had somehow been dumped upon them.

When Bruce managed to clear his mind, he realized that his hands were free and his utility belt had been returned to him. Psimon must have broken the shackles telekinetically. Now him and Ra’s were long gone. Batman couldn’t quite recall why they had been there, but it didn’t seem to matter. He had business to attend to at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time the Batman pulled into the Batcave he was bubbling over with rage. The entire drive back from the warehouse district had been a blur. All he had been able to think about was the joke residing in his home, walking around calling himself his partner, calling himself his son. Bruce wouldn’t stand for it. Wouldn’t let Drake drag his hard-earned family down into the mud where he resided. 

Hopping out of the car, Bruce ripped the cape from his shoulders. It was late. Or early, depending on how you looked at it. Alfred had likely already gone to bed; Bruce would need to change and shower in the Batcave before he dealt with his trash problem upstairs. He didn’t want to wake the poor butler who already got too little sleep between his duties and his masters night life.

Shedding his Batsuit and slipping into the shower, Bruce’s mind was pulled back to the time Tim had first shown up on his doorstep. The sheer audacity of this twelve-year-old boy to barge into his home and try to replace his recently departed son. And no matter how many times Bruce had tried to get rid of him, he had kept coming back. He was too stupid to understand that he wasn’t wanted. He had showed up again and again and again. Following Bruce around, forcing the Batman to keep an eye out on this untrained child who kept heedlessly throwing himself into dangerous situations. The only reason Drake had been given the Robin suit was to shut him up about their identities and to draw fire away from Bruce. So what if he got shot, it’s not like he was worth something to anyone anyway.

With a huff, Bruce turned off the shower water, and made a grab for his towel. 

When Jason came back, Bruce had been overjoyed. Jason, who had tried to rid them of Drake immediately. He must have been able to spot Drake’s weakness from a mile away. It radiated off of him. It was really no wonder his son had been so angry when he had come back. To find such a low-grade replacement in his stead must have felt like a mockery to his memory. Unfortunately, he hadn’t succeeded in scaring off the kid when he had broken into Titans Tower to take care of his pitiful copy and they were once again left to take in the stray. When Jack Drake had been killed by Captain Boomerang, Bruce had been filled with despair. He had been stuck with the boy he hadn’t wanted in the first place even though his real son had returned to him. Drake almost made it easy to get rid of him when he had gone after Boomerang and beaten the criminal to a pulp. It was the perfect reason to push him out, but still, somehow, Drake didn’t understand that they would all be better off without and managed to weasel his way back into their lives.

Now dressed, Bruce began his ascent from the Batcave. He fully intended to rid his family of this disease it had allowed to fester for far too long. 

_______________________________

Tim woke up to the sound of his bedroom door being thrown open. It hit the wall, hard, leaving a decent sized hole. Shocked, Tim scrambled up-right, he half expected to find Damian on the other side, though he knew the kid was out of town, and besides, now that Bruce was back, he had seemed to lighten up on the verbal beat downs. Tim assumed that Bruce, having been raised by a butler, held manners in too high regard to let Damian get away with saying most of his usual script. It truly was a miracle that Alfred hadn’t been able to beat the manners into the kid, but Damian holds Bruce in higher regard, so it made sense to Tim that the Big Bad Bat had been able to teach the demon spawn where all else had failed. 

What Tim never would have expected to see in his life was an angry Bruce Wayne, standing at his bedroom door in sweats, a look of utter rage on his face that didn’t seem to be directed at the new hole in the manor wall. In fact, it seemed to be aimed at Tim himself. 

Mentally, Tim tried to think back to what he might have done to warrant this kind of wake-up call at three in the morning, but his brain was still a little groggy and nothing came to mind. “Hey, B, are you alright? What’s wrong?”

Tim’s concern grew when Bruce’s glare only intensified until the essence of Batman was gracing their conversation with his presence, “What’s wrong? Ha!” Did Bruce just angry laugh at him? That was terrifying. “What’s wrong is that you’re still here.” Venom dripped from Bruce’s voice. The kind of tone he reserved only for those that commit the most heinous crimes imaginable. It wasn’t a sound the manor halls typically were the setting for.

“What?” The word came out shaky and a little breathless. It was ripped from Tim’s chest before he could even process it. Before he had chosen to say anything. Had he been supposed to only take a quick nap and then head on patrol to meet Bruce? He was so stupid, of course the Batman needed backup more than Tim needed to sleep. He must have been such a disappointment when he had come into the cave this evening, straight out of a twelve-hour shift at Wayne Enterprises and going into his fourth night without sleep. Too tired to stand, and barely able to keep his eyes open. How pathetic could he be? He had thought that Bruce was being kind to him when he had led Tim upstairs to sleep. Tim had even hoped that that bit of kindness meant he was welcome to move back into the manner. To come back home. But he must have miscalculated. And Bruce must have been so annoyed to have to go out on patrol on his own even though he was supposed to have backup, just because Tim was so useless that he couldn’t even handle a meager four nights without sleep. And then he must have waited for Tim to show up for patrol after the first few hours, but he never had because Tim was an idiot and he had let himself sleep, selfishly thinking he was being let off patrol tonight. “Look, B, I’m sor-“

“Get dressed” Bruce demanded, making his way into Tim’s room and dropping to his knees on the floor to root around under Tim’s bed. “I can’t believe you live in this filth.” Bruce’s voice was filled with scorn as he gestured at the room around them where Tim had dropped clothes on the floor, video games lay in an unorganized pile at the end of the table the TV was perched atop. Wrappers lay scattered across his desk between huge mounds of papers and books that were liable to fall over at any moment. Red Bull cans overflowed from his waste basket and onto the floor. The room looked like a tornado had ripped through it. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised,” Bruce continued as he finally managed to locate the spare backpack under Tim’s bed that he had apparently been searching for, “considering who I’m talking to. You couldn’t be bothered to clean up after yourself before you left?”

“I- I don’t…” Tim was completely dumbfounded. Bruce had never spoken to him like this before. Bruce had never spoken to any of them like this before. Like they were the scum of the Earth. For all the times he had gotten the cold shoulder, all the times he had thought Bruce couldn’t stand him, he had never had so much venom directed at him.

Bruce ignored his stammering and threw his bag down on his bed, making his way over to his closet and throwing it open. Despite what Bruce seemed to think, Tim’s retreat from the manner had been pre-meditated. Tim had slowly transported a few bits and pieces of things to various hideouts, then on the night he had actually fled his home, he had cleaned out all of the things he needed, essentials only. What was easy to take, bare minimum. He hadn’t been able to afford to tip Alfred off by cleaning up his room, something that surely would have alerted the old butler. Because he had known that if Alfred had asked him to stay, he would have. And that would likely have ended with him in an Arkham cell and Bruce doomed to be lost to time forever with no one looking for him. 

With graceful movements so familiar and unique to Bruce, Tim’s father figure removed the clothes from his closet one by one, tucking them into the backpack. Tim didn’t understand why Bruce was doing this. Tim had been practically dead to the world, but still, he could have sworn that a few hours ago Bruce had escorted him to his room and made him feel as though he was always welcome there. “What are you doing, Bruce? Why-“

“I told you to get dressed. Put these on.” Bruce threw a pair of jeans and a random t-shirt right at Tim’s face. More because of shock than anything else, Tim mechanically slid the jeans over his boxers. “What’s happening, B? Is somebody hurt?”

Bruce said nothing, intent on his task. Tim threw the shirt on and walked around the bed till he was stationed right in front of his dad. Bruce was pulling the last few items of the scanty amount of clothes that had been left behind off their hangers. “Answer me!”

Finally, Bruce looked directly at him. And when he did, Tim wished he hadn’t. There was no love there, no kindness. There were times that Tim thought that Bruce wished he hadn’t taken him in, hadn’t let him be Robin. Tim had always been half convinced that Bruce regretted ever opening the door for him that fateful night. But for all of those secrete fears, Bruce had never looked at him like that. Like he was nothing, like he could look right through Tim. 

“You’re leaving. I’ve put up with you too long. You’ve always been the weakest partner I had. The way you showed up tonight, in my home, dead on your feet, it was pathetic. Do you really think I want to be on patrol every night babysitting you? Having to make sure that you don’t get yourself killed from your incompetence. I thought you would take the hint when Jason came back, realize that we didn’t need you anymore. But you stayed, begging like a dog for scraps. Then Damian showed up and Dick managed to do what I never was able to and replaced you with someone who is actually worthy of being my partner, but still you whined and cried as if you had any right to a title you practically blackmailed me into giving you.”

Finished with his rant, Bruce spun on his heel, and stalked out into the hallway. 

Tim staggered back, Bruce’s words hitting him like an actual punch to the gut. Bruce thought he was worthless. Bruce… thought he was just Jason’s placeholder. The replacement no one cared about. He didn’t want Tim. Had never wanted Tim. He couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Bruce had given him plenty of reasons over the years to think that he didn’t care about Tim, but to think that he down right hated him? What could he have missed? How had he not seen this coming?

When Tim had pulled Bruce from the time stream, Tim had fled to San Francisco in a moment of weakness. He had been afraid to face Dick. Hadn’t want to retell his side of the story in front of the whole family, both the brothers who had wanted him dead, and the brother who had betrayed him. So he had run away, like the coward he was. And he had assumed that Bruce would check in, eventually. That they could have their reunion in private. But Bruce had never reached out and the only times they had really seen each other were at WE, but Tim hadn’t been able to handle talking to Bruce alone there. He knew he was going to have a break down and he knew that whenever he told Bruce about what had happened it would need to be in actual private, where he could be left alone when all was said and done. But Bruce had never showed up anywhere else, never reached out, never called, never summoned.

And now Tim knew why. He felt like such an idiot. What right did he have to this family? He had wanted it so badly, wanted to be one of them, wanted to have a home, so badly that he had convinced himself it was real. And how had he screwed up so bad? 

Damian told him all the time how worthless he was. How unworthy he was of his position. And Dick never said anything to stop him. Hell, Alfred never said anything to stop him. Tim had told himself that the kid had just never known love before, and he didn’t know there wasn’t a contest you had to win to earn their care. Jason had come back to life and tried to kill him. Several times. And Tim had just allowed it to happen. Had let Jason have whatever he needed to heal from his trauma and the pit. Tim told himself that he had a place here, no matter what they said. Even when it didn’t feel like it, Tim told himself that he was part of the family, always welcome. Had he just been convincing himself over and over and over that none of it meant anything when it’s meaning was so obviously clear? Had he really just kept coming back when his presence was obviously so resented?

He was so stupid. So stupid that he didn’t expect this, the clear next step to the problem they didn’t know how to get rid of. He just kept coming back, so starved for any sort of affection that he had tricked himself into believing that their scraps were a feast. He had needed to have a place here. He had needed to have a family. Had wanted it more than anything.  
And god, what if the Titans felt the same way? What if he had just been fooling himself about everyone? Cassie hadn’t believed him about Bruce, what if she was just as fed up with him? Stupid, worthless, fuck up Tim, who never knew when to stop, never knew when he wasn’t welcome.  
If they really didn’t want him, really wanted him gone that meant… that meant there was no one in the world who loved him. He was all alone.  
Falling to his knees, Tim let out a stuttering sob. Then another. And another. And soon his vision was blurring. This wasn’t real. It was a nightmare. It wasn’t true. Please don’t let it be true. 

That’s how Bruce found him when he walked back in, clutching a large picture frame.

“No wonder your parents left you to rot for all those years. Who could stand the sight of you? Every day for years, you were just pathetically clinging on to anyone who so much as glanced your way, begging for attention and hoping they don’t see how disgusting you are. But your parents saw. They always knew what you were, it’s a shame that I didn’t see it sooner. If I hadn’t been blinded by my grief, I would have known the second we met.” 

With a sneer that looked wrong on Bruce’s face, like it didn’t belong there, Bruce flung the picture frame onto the bed. 

It was the big portrait of the entire family. It was so rare they managed to all be in one place. Or to all be willing to smile at the camera at the same time. This had been taken at Alfred’s birthday party, just before Bruce disappeared and everything fell apart. They were all gathered in the manner gardens, smiling and laughing. It had been sunny and hot and perfect. Tim had run in to grab his camera’s stand. He had surprised everyone with it, then guilted them all into taking just one photo, saying it would be an excellent way to ruin Alfred’s birthday if they put up a fuss. They had all squeezed in around Alfred, Tim had put the camera on a timer and then ran back quickly to tuck himself under Bruce’s arm just in time for the flash. This picture had been the result. Dick and Stephanie were sticking their tongues out at each other. Damian had been smiling at Titus and thus staring off to the side. Jason had put his elbow on top of Tim’s head and was leaning casually against him, not really smiling, more like smirking at the camera and sporting a pair of finger guns. Cass had set down on Barbara’s lap in her wheelchair and the two girls had their faces smushed together. Alfred looked utterly exasperated. 

Tim had been smiling at the camera, the only one smiling at the camera, because Bruce had been staring down at Tim, tucked into his side with Jason’s arm propped atop his head. And Bruce had been smiling a warm smiling right down at Tim.   
Tim had sent the picture in the group chat the next day and Dick had blown it up and framed it and gifted it to Bruce not long after.

Staring at it now, Tim wonders how Bruce got to be such a good actor. No one who could say such hateful things to someone could ever have loved them. Not in the way Tim had so completely believed Bruce had loved him. The way he had so completely believed he was a part of this family. How had he managed to get it so wrong? 

Without a word, Bruce popped open the back of the picture, took out a pair of scissors and started cutting from the bottom. “Hey, Bruce. Stop it! What are you doing?”

Tim stood up on slightly wobbly legs, planning to make a grab for the scissors, but Bruce had already finished removing him from the treasured family photo. There was now a giant hole in the center of the glossy picture. “I don’t want you in our family picture. You aren’t a part of this family.” With that, he carefully laid down the remainder of the picture, then balled up the part that was Tim and tossed it onto the stack of Red Bull cans spilling out of his trashcan. 

Tim watched as the picture fragment bounced once, twice, then stopped a few feet from its intended destination. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the crumpled photo paper. He was starting to go numb. “You made me think you cared about me. You-“ His breathe caught in his throat and the picture on the ground suddenly blurred. There was a high-pitched whine coming from deep inside him that Tim desperately tried to tamper off. Closing his eyes, Tim attempted to ground himself. This, apparently, wasn’t a place to break down. He had to get a hold of himself. He could lick his wounds I private but right now…

A hand closed around Tim’s upper arm, gripping tightly, tight enough to leave a bruise. Tim’s eyes flew open, Bruce had moved silently across the room. Tim’s bag was slung over his shoulder, his face didn’t betray anything, no rage, no sadness. No anything. Just cold blankness, as if he didn’t even see Tim. Didn’t even know he was suffering, or maybe he just didn’t care. 

Bruce began to drag him from the room, Tim stumbled after him attempting to keep up on his still shaking legs. “Bruce, stop! I can walk, I’ll leave. Just let go of me.” But Bruce’s grip was like steel, and Tim couldn’t shake it off no matter how hard he pulled. They made it all the way out to the hallway, to the top of the stairs before Tim tripped over his own feet and fell to his knees. Bruce didn’t stop though, he just kept moving, almost mechanically dragging Tim down the stairs after him

Tim’s hip hit painfully against each step, and he struggled to get to his feet, but Bruce’s momentum was to great and the jostling of the stairs against his back made it difficult to get his legs out from under him. 

At the bottom of the stairs, Bruce released his death-like grip on Tim’s arm and Tim took a minute to take in what had just happened. Bruce had hurt him. Never in his wildest dreams had ever believed that his father figure would hate him so much that he wouldn’t care at all that he was causing pain to any of his wards. But Tim supposed he wasn’t Bruce’s ward. He was emancipated. And Bruce didn’t want him anymore. 

_______________________________________

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

Alfred blinked his eyes open blearily. Turning, he glanced at the clock on his bedside table. 3:30 am glared back at him in bright red letters. 

Thump. Thump. Thump

Alfred had been in the Wayne’s employment for a very long time, and he had never heard the old house make that sort of noise. Something heavy was being dragged around. Sighing, he swung his legs out of bed and slipped his feet into his slippers. Reaching for his shotgun, Alfred made his way toward the door of his bedchambers, then headed down the hall the entry way to the old manner.

Rounding the corner, Alfred stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes trying to process the sight in front of him. The front door to the house had been swung open, and standing there in the entry way was Bruce, his son, who had his hand tangled with a tight grip in Timothy’s hair. And he appeared to be dragging him by the head through the door. Timothy’s hands had come up and were desperately clutching at Bruce’s, trying in vain to pry his hair free. There was a Justice League backpack slung over Bruce’s shoulder that Alfred recognized as the very bag Dick had gifted Timothy during his very first Christmas as Robin. Bruce’s face was almost blank, but Alfred could see the angry set of his jaw. The steely glint in his eye.

And Timothy, poor boy, looked like hell. He was crying, tears staining his pale face. His bare feet were kicking out as he was hauled on his knees. Alfred could see a deep bruise on the back of Timothy’s hip where his shirt rode up. The old butler was suddenly filled with concern for both of his boys, but first things first, Timothy needed his help.

“Master Bruce, what in god’s name are you doing?”

Bruce turned at the sound of his voice, “Alfred. I’m just taking out the trash.” He lifted up the arm that held Timothy, then, with the strength of the Batman, Bruce reared back and threw Timothy out the door. The boy stumbled down the stone steps and landed on his side, facing the manor, on the cold driveway concrete. Bruce tossed the bag after him, it landed with a soft thud about a foot away from Timothy’s head.

And just like that, Alfred was running toward the door, just passed which, Timothy laid groaning on the floor. He was glad he had left the safety on, for he had dropped the shotgun on reflex as he bolted for the door. When he got to the doorway, Bruce stuck out his arm and blocked his path. “Leave him be, it’s the only way he’ll learn that he’s unwanted here.”

Shocked, Alfred turned to face his son. Something was terribly wrong. Bruce had never talked this way about one of his boys. In fact, just this morning he had been speaking of his absolute excitement to have a patrol with just Tim, so that they could finally catch up. Bruce had missed his son fiercely not twenty-four hours ago. He had been desperate to mend whatever may have broke between them. “Master Timothy is your son! How dare you treat him this way. I know I raised you better than that. Let me pass, Bruce.”

For a split second, Alfred thought Bruce wasn’t going to move out of the way. Then, with a petulant grunt, Bruce moved out of the way, revealing the outside world. 

Alfred’s breathe caught in his chest for the second time that night. Timothy was nowhere to be seen. The backpack of his belonging was gone as well. Taking a few steps out the door, Alfred turned toward the garage doors. Tim’s motorbike was gone. There was no trace of the boy. Alfred’s heart sank in his chest. Tim had fled the manor in fear. This place that was supposed to be his home. And he hadn’t been there in so very long. Alfred had gone to bed that night with the hopes that Timothy may be rejoining them permanently, if Bruce managed to get it right. Now there was a chance that he would never come home. 

Turning back to Bruce, Alfred released all of the rage on his son. “What have you done? How could you toss that poor boy out of this house? This is his home. When you took him in, you promised to protect him!”

“I only took him in because I had no other choice. I had a moral obligation to look after him, but he was nothing more than a irritation that was dumped on my lap. I was grieving the loss of my son at the time, of course I didn’t want to have to deal with the noisy neighborhood boy who was too desperate to realize he wasn’t wanted. He’s an adult now. He’s no longer our problem. You should be thanking me for getting rid of him.”

With that, Bruce turned and walked back into the manor. Alfred started after him for several moments trying to understand what had happened to his son. Something was wrong. On autopilot, Alfred made his way back to his chambers, pausing only to close the door and to reclaim his shotgun. There was a heaviness on his chest that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Alfred sunk down onto the bed and put his head in his hands. He couldn’t imagine what was going through Timothy’s head. Something was obviously off about what had happened, and Timothy was a smart boy, hopefully he would see that Bruce couldn’t have meant any of it. 

Then again, Timothy was a painfully apprehensive child, and Alfred feared he had never quite outgrown his insecurities. 

Picking up his phone, Alfred found Dick’s number and hit call. It took three rings for Dick to answer. “Hey, Alfie, do you have any idea what time it is? Has something happened?” 

“Master Dick, listen carefully, I fear something dreadful has happened between Master Bruce and Master Timothy.” Quickly, Alfred filled Dick in on the little information about the situation he had managed to gleam. When his phone call was finished, the old Englishman got up to get dressed. He had work to do.   
_________________________________  
Tim stumbled into his apartment like a drunk man. The ride back would have been incredibly dangerous considering he could hardly see through his tears, if not for the autopilot function he had installed in his bike. 

So that was the end of that. The end of a family. The end of having a place to call home. The end of everything. There was nowhere left for him to go. No more Red Robin. No telling what Batman would do when he ran into him on the streets of the city. And really, there was no way Tim would be able to prevent a total breakdown if he ever ran into him again. Or any of the Batclan again. If… he may never see his family ever again, and for all he knew they were celebrating right now. Maybe. 

Alfred had seemed so torn up when he had caught Bruce tossing him out like trash. Bruce had called him trash. Like he was nothing. Like their whole time together had meant nothing. But Alfred had been upset. Maybe he’d still be willing to see Tim. Outside the manor. Maybe at least some of them had gotten attached to him. 

But god, isn’t that exactly what Bruce was talking about? He would pathetically wait around for any scrap of love and affection despite all evidence suggesting there was no reason to hang around? Wasn’t that exactly what had been so annoying about him? He should have just left them, let them be a family, years ago, but he had just hung around. Pathetically hoping for more than he had earned, more than he deserved. They were all too good to tell him to get lost. Too good, in a way that Tim had always wanted to be but had never quite managed. 

He would have to leave the city. He would have to leave WE. Have to remove any chance of running into any of them. He would remove himself from the picture, he had done it before. He could figure out whatever came next after he had gotten out of the city. One thing at a time. Put it away. He didn’t have time to deal with it. 

Taking a deep breath, Tim glanced around his apartment for the first time. Nothing was out of place, but Tim couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He was probably being paranoid after the night he had had, but just in case, Tim reached down to the umbrella stand and pulled out a spare bo staff. Extending it, Tim carefully crept through the living room and into the hallway. The kitchen was clear. Guest room was clear. His office was clear. His bedroom…Ra’s Al Ghul was sitting in his bedroom. Why the fuck was Ra’s Al Ghul sitting in his bedroom? 

“Detective.” God, Ra’s was always so creepy. Did he have to sit in Tim’s bedroom to wait on him? There was a whole apartment? Not to mention this may be the worst night of Tim’s life, and he had had a lot of bad nights. He did not want to deal with Ra’s Al Ghul’s bullshit right now. Why couldn’t the universe just give him a break?

“What do you want Ra’s?” The corners of his mouth ticked up. Ugh, what was with this guy? Everything he did gave Tim the chills. “Why, Detective, is that anyway to great an old friend?” He paused, running his eyes up Tim’s body. Yuck! 

When Tim didn’t move, Ra’s pressed on, “I happened to be in Gotham city on business this evening. I know you’re aware of network of informants. They keep a special watch on you, and the told me the most fascinating story. Having a bit of family trouble, are you?”

Tim’s stomach dropped farther, shame making its way into his heart. He didn’t even get to take a minute to lick his wounds before a super villain turned up in his house to rub his face in it. And there’s no way Ra’s just happened to be in Gotham. He was up to something. He always was.

“Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“I’m offering you a place by my side, detective. Come back to the League with me. There’s nothing left for you here in Gotham, and I heard the Bat made his point incredibly clear. You aren’t welcome in his home. Or in his city. You don’t have anywhere else to go, and I can give you a better life than being the underappreciated pet of billionaire vigilante.” Of course that’s what he wanted. He was always trying to get Tim to be his new heir. Still, he wasn’t wrong. There really was no place for him to go. He wasn’t wanted in Gotham, and after tonight, he might not even be safe to stay in Gotham. 

Plus, if Ra’s was truly up to something, Tim needed to know what. And he no longer had the support of the Batman to help him find out. But he also didn’t have a family to run his plans by anymore. There was no one here that would miss him. No one who would even notice he was gone, unless Damian decided to take this as the green light to finish him off. 

At the very least, the League of Assassins was a good place to go to disappear. If Ra’s turned out to be in the clear, for now at least, it was a fantastic place to start his new life completely off the map. He could stay there for a few months, get things in order, then completely disappear. It would be a little more difficult this time to hide from the Batfamily with Bruce around, but it’s unlikely Bruce would go to all that trouble to find a son that he hates. No. Not his son. Not anymore, if he ever had been. Sighing, he looked up at Ra’s through his bangs. This man was a viper, he would most certainly bite Tim the second he had the chance. So, he would just have to make sure that Ra’s never got that chance to begin with. 

“You have a deal.”  
________________________________

Dick hadn’t been sure what to expect after the call he had gotten from Alfred. He had attempted to mentally prepare himself on the way over to the cave, no easy feat considering he had needed to call his brothers, which required some mental preparation of its own. Jason had been angry at having been woken up at the “ungodly hour of the night which was sacred to every man and should never be disturbed” but he had switched to anxious almost immediately when Dick had told him the bare bones of the incident with Tim. Jason had a million questions that Dick couldn’t answer, he didn’t know anything, he was on the way to the manor to investigate. Once he was sure there was no more information to be gleamed, Jason had ordered Dick to keep him updated saying he would be back in Gotham in six hours and not to do anything stupid without him. Then he had hung up very rudely.

When Dick called Damian, Jon answered the phone, saying Damian had just fallen asleep after a nightmare and that Dick could either call back in the morning or convince Jon it was important enough to wake his sleeping ‘friend.’ In the end, Dick told Jon that Damian was needed at the manor urgently, everyone was safe, but there had been an episode between Batman and Red Robin. Jon had said he’d relay the message, and then he too hung up rather rudely on Dick.

Then Dick had nothing but time to ready himself, it’s just that absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the security footage that was being played for him. Even in their worst fights, Bruce had never made Dick feel like anything but his son. He had always known he had a place here in the manner. Bruce had never spoken to him like this. In this hateful and cruel manner which he was using on Tim. Dick wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t been watching it himself. 

Bruce had been so concerned about Tim lately, he kept asking Dick about his time away, trying to figure out what could have created such an impossibly large rift between Tim and everyone else. The shame had won out every single time Bruce had asked, and as much as Dick wanted to air his soul to his father, he couldn’t seem to force the words out. He had been so desperate to get it right when Bruce disappeared and all he had done was fail at every aspect of being the Batman and being a big brother. There were somethings that were so shameful that they lodged in your chest and never left. Dick had a feeling Tim would always remember how he failed when Tim needed him most. 

And Bruce was struggling, constantly, to reach his son across the abyss. They had talked about it when Dick had requested the night off for some quality time with Babs. Bruce was supposed to use tonight to finally have that much needed conversation with his son, so what had gone so terribly wrong? What had twisted Bruce’s cautious hope into this hateful screaming? 

All Dick wanted to do was rap Tim up in his arms and convince him that he was loved and that nothing he had heard tonight was true. Nothing Bruce said was right. He was needed, but more than that he was wanted. He was an important addition to this family and they loved him with all they had. All of them. Even when it didn’t feel like it. He was so amazing and selfless and intelligent. And he had been through so much. Why was it always Tim who had to suffer? His baby brother. He was always getting so hurt. And Dick couldn’t even find him and hug him until he figured out what was wrong with Bruce. If it was progressive, he could go out and hurt more people. If it was targeted on Tim, he would only make it worse if he forced Tim to come home. If he didn’t have proof, Tim would never believe that he hadn’t just taken pity on him. 

How did everything go so wrong so fast?  
A powerful determination rose in Dick. He was going to fix this, no matter what it took. He would need to start blood tests on Bruce. He would need to figure out who he came into contact with on patrol. And he would need to call the Martian Manhunter to check his mind, just to cover all his bases.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight non-con in this chapter.

Jason had been driving all night. He had to admit, he had been thoroughly pissed when Dick had first called him in the middle of the night. Jason loved his sleep, and Roy said he needed a lot of it if he was going to catch up to Kori. As if, no amount of beauty sleep would get him close to Kori. Especially not if he kept getting woken up in the middle of the night. 

But this was for Tim. And he owed Tim too much to not come when called. 

He still couldn’t believe that Tim had forgiven him for all of the tortures Jason had put him through. He had hardly needed to apologize before Tim was treating him like they had never had any issues. It was honestly slightly concerning how fast Tim had put it behind him. Jason was grateful and all, but he kind of felt like any self-respecting individual would have held a grudge. But not Timbers, he had welcomed Jason back into the family with open arms. He had told Jason that he understood that he had gone through a traumatic experience and that people had to cope with those experiences in anyway they knew how. It had been the most supportive thing anyone in his family had said to him since his miraculous resurrection. 

Tim was kind. And he deserved to have that kindness repaid to him. 

So, there Jason was, pulling in to a fancy ass apartment building in Gotham city too early in the morning to be mentioned. Dick had told him to come straight back to the manor, but Jason knew Tim too well. Knew that whatever was going through his mind right now was dangerous. If they didn’t play this out carefully, Tim would bolt. He would take off in the dead of night and they may never see him again. Jason was just getting ahead of that. He wasn’t worried about the kid. Wasn’t worried at all, he told himself as he pulled out his spare key and let himself into the building. The elevator would be fast, but Jason could move faster on the stairs.

It's just that, Tim had some very predictable habits, and they were all self-destructive and unhealthy, sure, but they were typically foreseeable. When bad things happened to Timbo, he threw himself into work and didn’t come up for air until the problem was fixed. He said it was only practical, but Jason knew he was just trying to outrun his feelings. Work hard, keep busy. Always be moving. Don’t think about it. 

When Jason had died as Robin, Tim had watched the Batman fall apart, and he had forced himself into Robin to fix it rather than see his idol tear the city apart. When Jason had come back pissed and half crazed with pit madness, Tim had taken it upon himself to pick up the pieces of his mentor and his brother, instead of dealing with the fact that his childhood hero had attempted to murder him. When Bruce had disappeared, Tim was the closest he had been to breaking as he had ever been. He had laid in bed for days, and no one had been able to get through to him. Then, the second he found evidence that Bruce was alive, he had launched himself into the investigation. When Dick had tried to get him committed to Arkham, Tim had simply fled the manor. Running away from the problems that were too overwhelming, physically and figuratively, was Tim’s thing. 

Except, as far as Jason could tell, there was nothing to throw himself into this time. No case to solve or person to save. That left crippling depression, which was honestly the scary option. Jason wasn’t sure what he would find in Tim’s apartment, and the feeling of dread in his stomach only increased as he reached Tim’s floor and made his way over to the door. 

Jason knocked. Waited a minute. Knocked again, still nothing. 

Sighing, he pulled out his key. He was being ridiculous. Tim wouldn’t have bolted overnight. He was a planner. He would get his house in order first. Besides, from what Dick told him, there was no reason for Tim to think anyone would come looking for him. And he couldn’t allow Tim to think that. To think that they hated him. He had to try, even though he knew Tim wouldn’t believe him without hard evidence. He was hardwired to doubt everything. It was a habit that had saved all their lives on more than one occasion, but it made trusting others a little difficult. 

The apartment was pitch black, which wasn’t all together concerning considering Jason had expected Tim to be laying in his bed, probably crying and surrounded by cartons of ice cream. 

But Tim wasn’t there. The apartment was empty. Jason had gone straight to the bedroom, and when he didn’t find Tim there, he had done a sweep of the entire apartment. Nothing was taken. Nothing was out of place, except Tim. No clothes packed, nothing taken care of, and a little brightly colored backpack at the foot of the bed, from which he could see the smiling cartoon faces of Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman. Whoever had designed it clearly wasn’t from Gotham or they would have known that Batman never smiled. That was Tim’s overnight bag from the manor. Jason had never seen it in the apartment. He had to have come home, with the backpack having relocated and his wallet and keys sitting on the table by the front door.

There had been no planning time. No check lists or foresight or time to grieve. He had come back to his apartment, then simply vanished into the night.

Tim was gone.  
__________________________

Bruce was sitting at the batcomputer when he heard Dick slipping down the staircase, Damian slinking behind him. But there was a third pair of footsteps. Too heavy footed to be Alfred. There was a distinct drop to them, as if the person wasn’t expecting to fall so hard with every step, even if it was just subconsciously. Why was the Martian Manhunter in his home, coming down the manor steps with his sons? His footsteps were always so distinct, like he had never adjusted to the heavier gravity on Earth than that of Mars. 

Turning in his seat, Bruce took in the grim set of faces he was met with. This was planned. An intervention of some kind. One that required the skills of a Martian? “J’onn, what a surprise. What are you doing here?”

“Your sons have summoned me, Bruce. They fear someone may have tampered with your mind.” Quickly, he scanned the three faces staring at him. Damian was nervous, his face was carefully blank, but he had his arms crossed tightly over his chests, hands clenched into fists. Dick’s face displayed open worry, whatever had gotten into this group, it had spawned from his oldest. He seemed incredibly anxious, as he should be when throwing such ridiculous accusations at Bruce. J’onn was impassive and blank, as always. 

“That’s preposterous,” Bruce scoffed “What could possibly have led you to believe something so incredulous?” 

Unsurprisingly, Dick was the one to speak up, his oldest taking a cautious step in his direction. “Alfred called me last night, Bruce. He told me about what happened with Tim. Doesn’t it strike you as strange that you would just suddenly toss him out?”

“Tim? That’s what this is about?” Bruce could not believe his sons were upset about him getting rid of Jason’s replacement. That, at the very least, explained why Jason wasn’t here. At least one of his sons understood what he had just done for them. “I’m surprised you’re unhappy about this development, Damian. Dick has always had a habit of growing attached to strays, but you’ve always seen how worthless Drake was. You were right to hate him.” 

At that, Damian’s careful façade cracked and the boy looked positively grief stricken. “I’ve never hated Drake, Father. I was afraid you cared from him more. But you have shown me there is a place for both of us by your side. Drake is my brother, your son.”  
Something in Bruce seemed to snap at those words, his face flashed into something desperate for a moment, before a mask of hatred came down over it, and when he spoke, his voice dripped poison. “Drake is not my son. He’s a roach that must be exterminated, kept around for so long simply because he could be put to work, but now he’s trying to weasel his way into my family and I won’t stand for it. He needs to go. He outplayed his usefulness long ago.”

“This is pointless.” Dick’s voice trembled, but when he stepped forward, it was with the determination of the hero that he was. “J’onn, what do you see?”

The Martian’s eyes glowed, “Someone has tampered with his mind. There is a block, I can take it down, but it will be…uncomfortable.”

Bruce growled, “Stay out of my head, Martian.”

And just like that, Bruce had been replaced with the Batman. Dick’s adoptive father shifted into a fighting stance, and beside him, he could feel Damian tense, getting ready for a fight. But Dick had anticipated Bruce putting up a fight. 

A dart flew out of the darkness and straight into Bruce’s neck. He had just a split second to look surprised, or as surprised as Bruce got, before he collapsed forward in a heap. Dick lifted his hand in thanks to Cass, who was kneeling on the head of the giant T-rex in the cave. She waved back, then stood to make her way down then end of the replica. 

Damian followed his line of sight, and upon spotting Cass, relaxed slightly. “Good thinking, Grayson, calling Cain. She is perhaps the only one who could have snuck up on Father.”

“Bruce is lucky a dart was all he got from her with the way he was talking about Tim, even if it wasn’t his fault. Help me haul him up to the med bay. He’s solid muscle and he weighs a ton.”

_________________________

“There seems to have been a fight…”

“telepath employed by Ra’s Al Ghul”

“tried to fight… just needs rest.”

Bruce was in Nanda Parbat. He was dressed in the black stealth wear customary to the League of Assassins. He was walking with a sense of urgency through the hallways, something clutched tightly in his hand dragging behind him. It was trying to escape his grasp, but that just made Bruce give it a sharp tug. The package gave a pitiful whimper and clutched at his wrist, but Bruce was determined not to allow it to get away from him. He had a job to do. 

Taking a sharp turn, Bruce entered the throne room, it’s red and gold walls creating a feel of royalty. Ra’s was seated on the high-backed gold throne perched atop a small flight of stairs. Bruce dragged his package across the marble floor and dumped it in the center of the room, it gave a small hiss at being jostled but remained otherwise silent. Kneeling, Bruce lowered his head in a show of respect, “I have brought you the package, as discussed.” When he spoke, his voice sounded far away.

“Very good, Bruce.” Ra’s called out to him. The glee was obvious in his voice. The Demon’s Head had wanted this package very much and Bruce was glad to be the one able to deliver it to him. “You may take a watch position by the door.” Nodding, Bruce got up and turned toward the door without so much as a glance at the package. He made his way to the door, preparing to step out into the hall. What Ra’s did with the package was none of his business, but there was a lingering feeling of concern that Bruce just couldn’t seem to shake. 

“Detective,” Ra’s called, halting him in his tracks, “You may stand guard inside the room. I want you to watch.” Confused, but not inclined to disobey, Bruce turned on his heel and took up his post. From this position, he was finally able to get a look at the package. It was a boy, barely seventeen years old, with scruffy dark hair and deep blue eyes hidden through bangs. He was small, almost too skinny. There was a trickle of blood running down the side of his face from his hairline from where Bruce’s grip had been too tight in his hair. He was looking up at Ra’s with wide, terrified eyes… and Ra’s was looking at him like a predator looks at his prey. Dread sparked in Bruce’s heart, but he didn’t understand why. It wasn’t his place to question what Ra’s wanted from this boy, even if the answer was startlingly obvious from the way he watched him. 

Getting up off his throne, Ra’s made his way over to the child on the ground, sliding with the grace of someone born long before this time. He kneeled down by the child and whispered in his ear, and, though he was far away, Bruce heard every word he was saying as if it was being whispered in his own ear, “Your father doesn’t want you, Detective. He delivered me to you himself. Couldn’t wait to get you off his hands.” 

The boy turned his head and looked at Bruce with all the heartbreak in the world, and for some reason, Bruce’s own heart broke in his chest. His heart beat faster, but he dare not move. 

Gently, Ra’s’ hand came up to cup the boys face. “Not to worry, Timothy. I will love you in a way that he never could.” Then, he leaned in to kiss the boy, and the child, Timothy, he began to struggle. His body jerked in a desperate attempt to get away, but Ra’s grip on his jaw was strong, and he couldn’t get very far. The boy’s eyes filled with tears and he looked pleadingly up at Bruce.

Panic rose in him. Abruptly, he wanted nothing more than to run across the room and tear Ra’s off the boy, but his legs wouldn’t work. They didn’t move when he told them to, they didn’t move no matter how hard he fought to end this torture. He wasn’t going to be able to stop it. He had to stop it. This couldn’t happen. Something was wrong here. Something was off. Timothy needed help. He needed…

And just like that, Ra’s was pulling away, turning his back, and beginning his ascent back onto his thrown without turning to look back at the boy or at Bruce. But Timothy did turn back, he turned to look at Bruce with such betrayal in his eyes that it felt as if Bruce had violated the boy himself. 

“How could you?” His voice cracked. “How could you let him hurt me? How could you let him near me? You were supposed to protect me.” The boy had begun to openly sob. It was the worst kind of crying, the kind of tears that fell when you wanted desperately to keep them in but they leaked out of you anyway. The kind of crying that meant the world was too much and shattered you. The kind of crying that made you wonder if you’d ever put yourself back together. Bruce didn’t want this boy to feel such sorrow. He wanted to wipe his tears away, but still he couldn’t move a muscle.

Then, without warning, the boy was getting up off the floor, was bolting as fast as he can toward the window, was climbing up on the ledge. NO. Nonononono. He wouldn’t. Coldness spread down Bruce’s body, numbing him. Bruce had to get to Tim, he couldn’t lose him, not like this. He fought as hard as he could against the invisible force keeping him in place, terror gripping his heart. Not Tim. Not his baby, not like this. 

And just like that, Bruce was able to move again. Freed from his invisible chains, he took off across the room, trying to get to his son. Trying to save him. He was no more than five feet away when Tim turned and looked at him with a look that stopped Bruce’s heart. There was no sadness or fear or pain. Just nothingness. And then Tim leaned back and dropped, like a stone, out the window.

__________________________

Bruce woke with a start, heart pounding wildly in his chest, the remnants of his nightmare clutching at him like the hands of ghosts. It wasn’t real, he told himself, trying to calm the fear racing through his veins. It wasn’t real.

Trying to ground himself, Bruce took in his setting. He was in the cave med bay, that was never a good sign upon waking up. Doing a quick damage assessment, Bruce discovered that he was entirely fine, he just couldn’t quite remember how he had gotten here. Thinking back, Bruce recalled waiting for Tim to show up on patrol. Except Tim had been asleep on his feet, so Bruce had sent him off to bed and then gone patrolling alone. It had been a slow night, but he had run into Ra’s Al Ghul and his new pet telepath, Psimon…

No. Oh, god, no. Tim. They had made him hate Tim. His baby. He had hurt his boy, his own child. Wrecked him in every way imaginable. He had told him that he wasn’t part of his family. Had called him worthless and pathetic and trash. Tim, who wanted a home so bad, he always had. And Bruce had taken it away from him, treated him like he was nothing instead of something precious and loved and treasured. 

Where was his boy? Bruce had to see him. Had to find him and apologize and convince him, somehow, that he didn’t mean it and that Bruce loved Tim with every inch of his being. 

Pushing himself off the bed and practically falling to his knees, Bruce stumbled to the entrance to the main part of the cave. Things were already so tense with Tim. The boy had been disappearing from Bruce and their family for months, and now he may disappear for good. Bruce may have driven his son from his home, literally thrown him out for good. How had he failed so bad? What kind of father was he, if he not only allowed his son to be hurt so badly, but to have been the one to cause it?

Staggering across the doorway, Bruce frantically searched for the mop of black hair that belonged to his second youngest. He had to make sure he was okay, he was safe. He wasn’t hurting and broken somewhere thinking Bruce didn’t want him. 

But of course Tim wasn’t there. Why would he be after everything Bruce had put him through? Instead, he found Dick, Jason, and Damian all huddled around the Batcomputer. And there, on the screen, was the security camera footage from the main entrance of the manor. Bruce could see himself dragging Tim down the stairs as his baby struggled to get away from him. Get away from his father who was hurting him. Tim looked so scared and hurt and betrayed.

Something inside Bruce snapped. He broke everything he touched. His children, his babies. He had wanted to protect them. To keep them safe from everything in the world, including themselves. But he was too selfish. He had left himself have too much in having his sons and also getting to have partners in his night job. It had been so nice to have someone to love in every aspect of his life, but in letting them be part of his whole world he had broken the very people he treasured more than anything else in the world. 

And there he was on screen, trying to stop Alfred from giving the comfort to Tim that Bruce himself now longed to give the boy with everything he had. Bruce had truly taken everything from Tim. Had destroyed him in under an hour and potentially lost him forever in the same short time. 

And, god, Bruce could see, just over his own shoulder, Tim pick himself up and stumble backwards, nearly tripping over himself in an effort to get away from his so-called father. His face twisted in pain, a hand over his mouth to hold in a sob. 

Bruce was suddenly, selfishly, glad that there were no security cameras in the bedrooms. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to hear all the hateful things he had said to his son. 

“Where is he?” Bruce hadn’t intended his voice to come out so broken. He usually had such good control over these things, but not now. Not when Tim was so hurt and the blame lay entirely at his feet. 

At the sound of his voice, Dick jumped to his feet, tapping in a few quick commands to shut down the video feed, trying to spare Bruce the shame of it all. But it was too late for that. Bruce would carry his shame for the rest of his life. The same way he did when any of his kids got hurt.  
“He’s not in his apartment.” Jason spoke up. Good, Jason would tell him how it was without trying to cushion any blows. He would tell him the truth. “Tim’s just gone. Nothing out of place or missing. The kid just vanished.”

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut. Ra’s. Ra’s had come for his baby at his most vulnerable and swept him away. Had forced Bruce to make Tim feel unloved and unlovable. Made him tell his son that he wasn’t wanted and wasn’t family and wasn’t cherished. As if he wasn’t one of the only bright spots in the darkness of Bruce’s life. As if he wasn’t worth everything and more. 

And now Ra’s had Tim. Ra’s who wanted Tim for more than just his brains and his skills and because he was wonder. Ra’s who wanted Tim for something horrible and awful and disgusting. And Ra’s had a telepath now. A telepath who could convince you any thought was yours and what you wanted, Bruce would know, he had experienced it firsthand. With a command so terribly false that Bruce couldn’t even comprehend thinking it, even though just a few short hours ago he had believed with everything in him that it was the truth. He felt like he was going to be sick.

They had to find Tim, and fast. Before Ra’s could do something too horrid to mention. And when Bruce found the man who had done this to his family, he was going to destroy him. Ra’s was never going to hurt his family again, Bruce was going to break every bone in his miserable body and then lock him up somewhere dark and cold so that he never got to lay eyes on the sky again. 

“Ra’s is behind this. He captured me late last night. He had a telepath with him named Dr Simon Jones. Goes by Psimon Says. He sent me home with orders to ostracize Tim. Ra’s was trying to secure him as his heir and wanted to make sure he felt like he had nothing left.” 

“Grandfather is ruthless.” Damian’s hands were balled into fists at his side, “He’s always had an eye on Drake. He used to speak tales of his accomplishments with so much admiration. When I got to Gotham, I…” Damian hung his head in embarrassment. He was getting better at handling his emotions, under Dick’s tutelage, but it was a struggle for him to speak openly about what he was feeling. Clearing his throat, Damian began again. “I had found it difficult to not fall into Drake’s shadow, and I had been attempting to earn the same regard Grandfather holds for Drake from you, Father. I had thought the only way to do that was to make you see how superior I thought I was.”

Despite all the ugly guilt eating away at him and the sorrow threatening to destroy his soul, Bruce felt pride spark in his chest. Damian had come such a long way since he had first arrived on his doorstep. “Damian, you know that you don’t have to earn my love. Love and care aren’t things you have to become worthy of. And there isn’t a finite amount. I love all my children the same. With all the same fierceness, not because you’re smart or a good fighter or useful. But because you’re my kids and I’m glad to have you in my life. Okay?”

Damian nodded, not meeting his eye. Dick, upon seeing his younger brothers struggle, threw his arms around him in a tight hug, and almost reluctantly, Damian melted into the embrace. 

“As touching as this is, B, we’ve got to find Tim. Ra’s gives me the creeps and the thought of him alone with Timbers doesn’t sit well with me.” Jason piped up. He always had been practically allergic to feelings. But he was right. Bruce was trying frantically not to think about what could being going on right this very moment. That line of thinking led to bad places he couldn’t afford to visit right now. Tim needed him.

“Alright,” Bruce said, making his way toward the Batcomputer. He was grateful, once again, that Dick had taken down the video so that he didn’t have to face it just now. “Dick, where did J’onn go?”

“He’s upstairs” His eldest informed him, “Him and Cass are keeping Alfred company, he was having a hard time digesting all of this, so he did what he always does when stressed, started baking.” Bruce would have to speak with Alfred about all that had happened. At the very least he owed the old butler an apology. He could add it to the list of sins he had to atone for. 

“Good. Go tell him we’re going to need him for a mission. I don’t want to risk coming into contact with Psimon again. Jason, speak with your contacts in the League. I need a list of potential base locations. Damian, go prep the Batwing. All of you make sure you’re ready, I want to move out the second I get a position on Ra’s.” 

Bruce was a failure as a mentor. A failure as a father. A failure as a partner. But he was not going to fail Tim again. When he found his boy, he was never going to let him go. Tim deserved so much more than Bruce could ever offer him. Maybe Tim would be better off without Bruce. Look what Bruce had brought into his life. Only pain and suffering. When they had started this journey together, Tim had had two parents. They weren’t the best parents, but they were Tim’s and he had gotten to have them. And now Tim was an orphan, just like the rest of them. Tim used to be so full of life and hope, but lately, he had had so much weight on his shoulders. He never complained, he just kept taking on more and more, and Bruce had known he had been struggling and hadn’t done anything about it. He had told himself that he would, as soon as he was back on his feet. As soon as he had caught up on everything. 

Except, months had passed and Bruce had gotten a hold of his life again, but he had left his son out in the cold, alone, crumbling under the pressure. Bruce had just kept saying, a little longer. He’d only have to hold on a little long. Then Bruce had never offered a hand. Why hadn’t he tried to help sooner?

Maybe if he had tried to reach out, if he had given Tim the love and support he so clearly needed, Tim wouldn’t have been so ready to believe that Bruce thought he was worthless. He hadn’t even questioned it when Bruce had said he wasn’t part of this family, he had accepted every cruel word Bruce had thrown at him like fact. Bruce was a horrible failure of a father and his son had believed he was trash at one word from him without putting up a fight. 

Perhaps Tim really was better off without him. Perhaps all he added to his children’s lives were misery and pain and unnecessary hurting. But Bruce was selfish, and he didn’t want to give up his son. He wanted to earn his forgiveness and his love and trust. He wanted to wrap Tim in a hug and convince him he was the most precious thing in the universe and he was loved beyond measure and he was the heart and soul of their family. Without him, they would all fall to pieces in an instant. 

One thing was clear, Tim would never have to labor under another load that wasn’t his to carry. Even if he chose never to come home to them. Bruce deserved that pain for all that he had done, he deserved to lose his son. But his son didn’t deserve to be lost, to lose his family and all the people who loved him simply because Bruce was too weak to fight off horribly false suggestions. 

Wherever Tim was, Bruce was coming to save him. He would always come to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support, y'all, and sorry for putting so much angst on you! I didn't know what level of hurt I was gonna put in it until I started writing it, but to be fair, the whole concept is pretty heart wrenching, so I kinda feel like I'm letting y'all off easy, lol.
> 
> Let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains non-con

Tim had been staying with Ra’s for about a week and had not managed to find a shred of information about what the Demon’s Head was planning. It almost seemed as if there was no scheming being done, which didn’t make any sense. Gotham City wasn’t exactly Ra’s prime hang out spot. He wouldn’t just show up without a reason. 

Tim didn’t want to say that he was disappointed a giant evil club of murderers was, well, not being murder-y, but with nothing to investigate, he was having a hard time ignoring the suffocating pressure in his chest. It was difficult to find the energy to train or to snoop around the base or even to eat. And as much as Tim hated to admit it, if it wasn’t for Ra’s, he likely wouldn’t have gotten out of bed at all since Bruce had decided he was done pretending to care about him. 

And that was fine. Really, it was. Tim had always known that he was the least important in the set. That given the choice between him and any of his other kids, Bruce would always pick someone else, no contest. Tim had known it when Bruce hadn’t come looking for him for months after Tim had scarified everything to get him back. Had known it whenever Damian criticized him, and Bruce never stuck up for him. Had known it when he had snapped back and Bruce had told him that he needed to act like the adult. But Tim hadn’t wanted to act like an adult, he had wanted to act like the angst-ridden teenager who was barely holding his head above water that he was. 

No one had ever seen anything good in Tim. There was always more he needed to fix about himself. Always more work to put in. All he had ever wanted was to be good and good enough. He worked himself ragged to be a hero, trying to prove he could be the kind of person people wanted. The kind of person that people knew they could count on to do what was right. To be unselfish and kind and silently take on weight to protect others from being crushed. He had tricked himself for a while, thinking Bruce and the rest of the family might see something worth keeping around, even though they only ever offered critiques. But Bruce had cleared that up for him. There wasn’t anything worth holding onto him for. He was nothing.

He had just kept trying and kept giving and they had kept taking and yelling when he had nothing left to give them. If he was better, he wouldn’t run out of things to give, he would never tire of helping. He would never selfishly wish for someone to offer him a hand.

So, yeah, it had just been a matter of time before they came to their sense and he was cut out of the family like the cancer that he was, and that was fine. And it didn’t matter that Tim’s heart felt like a million broken pieces of glass, shredding his soul with every breathe. Biting down the sob that seemed to constantly be trying to force its way out of him, Tim forced himself to get up. Ra’s had requested his presence, again. The man had been steadily getting creepier, which was saying a lot for Ra’s. His advances had become startlingly blatant and Tim had been just barely avoiding the topic for days. He knew if they continued at this rate, he would need to get out of wherever the hell they were quickly. Ra’s wasn’t a man who liked to be denied what he wanted. 

And apparently what he wanted was Tim. The thought of it made his skin crawl, and Tim had taken to checking his bathroom for cameras before showering. 

Finding the baggiest clothes he could, Tim got dressed and made his way down the long hallway. Ra’s had an incredibly expensive eye for design, and everything in his lair looked like it belonged in a palace. If Tim cared about what Ra’s thought of him, he might be too afraid to touch anything, not wanting to break it, but he found that he didn’t really care if he smashed something on accident. Screw Ra’s and his stupid relics. Whenever Tim got bored and needed a distraction from replaying Bruce’s words, Tim walked the hallways and examined the ancient items on display. The League members knew better than to tell him off for it, but Tim could tell they were all attempting not to have heart attacks while he was holding the potentially thousands of years old artifacts. It was the only amusement he had around here. 

Entering the throne room, Tim caught sight of a hooded figure, standing just beside the ornate chair Ra’s had seated himself in. For the last week, he had met with Ra’s several times a day. For meals, for a game of chess, to walk around the gardens with him. He had even attempted to get Tim to go for a swim with him, but Ra’s wasn’t seeing that much of his body for any reason. Never in any of that time had Ra’s allowed anyone to be present with the two of them. They were left alone. Or, as alone as you get in an old castle full of ninjas. 

Proceeding with caution, Tim made his way to the center of the room, trying not to size up the stranger too obviously. He was completely obscured by the robes and the shadows, but he gave of a bad vibe. Tim needed to be ready for anything and tread carefully. “You asked to see me.”

“Indeed.” Ra’s eyed him hungrily. Tim felt repulsion at the look, but attempted to keep a blank face. “I’ve decided it’s time for us to end this game of cat and mouse, Detective. I’ve grown quite tired of foreplay.”

Ew. Tim supposed he should be worried about what Ra’s was planning, but he was too disgusted by what the older man was implying. Of course, Tim had known Ra’s desired him for years, but Ra’s had never just come out and addressed it. The man was about a million years old and Tim was barely seventeen. Tim supposed when you lived so long, age differences began to mean less, but to Tim, that was a firm line. Not to mention the fact that he was a mass murdered and complete lunatic. “Foreplay? Are you referring to the years you’ve been pursuing me while I tried to stay as far away from you as possible? You’re old Ra’s, I figured at some point in your long life you would have learned to take a hint.” 

Ra’s face twisted with rage, but he was very clearly trying to bite it down. A beat passed, then, with a glance to the person at his side, his anger melted off his face. It was replaced with a look of total smugness. Tim did not like that look one bit. “Don’t get cheeky with me, Detective. Do you not realize what I’m offering to you? A place, to rule at my side. An honor shared with very few through the centuries. Join me, Detective. All of the League of Assassins could be ours to command.”

Tim couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Ra’s wanted him to run the League of Assassins? He had always assumed he just wanted to get Tim into his bed. But he wanted more than that. He wanted Tim. “As fun as that sounds, Ra’s, I’m going to have to give it a hard pass.”

That drew a chuckle from the Demons Head, never a good sign. How had this become Tim’s life? A week ago, he was back in Gotham, hoping against reason that Bruce was finally ready to bring him home. He had gone to bed imagining what it would be like to return to the manor, to come back to his family, who he had missed with everything in him. He had woken up a few short hours later to a nightmare that just kept getting worse. Or maybe his life had always been one big nightmare, and Tim just hadn’t realized it, hadn’t wanted to see it, until it was forcefully shoved in his face. His parents had abandoned him, then he had gotten them killed. Jason hated him. Dick had replaced him. Damian couldn’t be bothered with him. And Bruce didn’t want him. 

“Why resist me, Detective? There is nothing else for you. There is nowhere else for you to go. I am the only person in the world who wants you. The only person who cares about what happens to you.” Tim’s heart sank. Ra’s was right, of course. There was no one who cared about him. He didn’t need a supervillain to remind him, it was all he could think about. 

Bruce had used him for his mind. Had put up with him for years, let him think he was part of their family because it was more convenient for him. His brothers had all proved to him over the course of their time together that he wasn’t required, and still he had hung around. If even Dick Grayson couldn’t stand the sight of him and had replaced him the second he was in a position to rid himself of Tim, then why would any of the Titans put up with him? They must have been playing him the same way. Cassie, Bart… Kon. Tim didn’t think he could handle having them treat him the way Bruce had. If Kon had spent all these years giving him just enough to keep him coming back while secretly repulsed by him in the same way Tim was repulsed by Ra’s, Tim didn’t think he would ever be able to put himself back together. Still, being alone was better than being with Ra’s and helping him in his villainous schemes. “Go to hell, Ra’s”

“Disappointing, but unsurprising.” Ra’s didn’t seem upset, though. In fact, he almost seemed happy about his answer. Which didn’t make any sense, Ra’s wasn’t a man that liked to hear the word no. Tim had seen the temper tantrums the man could throw. They would put any toddler to shame, as was the case with most narcissists. 

Ra’s inclined his head to the hooded stranger. “If you would.” The man actually licked his lips. Yuck. “Just the agreed upon commands.” Tim didn’t like the sound of that at all. 

The hooded man lifted his milky white hands to his hood, pushing it back to reveal a familiar grotesque face, the man’s brain visible through a glass case embedded in his enlarged head. Psimon. Fuck. Tim had tangled with him before and he had come away feeling dirty. It had taken him weeks to relax and trust his own thoughts afterward. He couldn’t let the man speak. Quickly, he sprang at the stairs, but he didn’t get more than half way there before a voice cut through his thoughts. “Psimon says, stop.”

And just like that, Tim wasn’t going anywhere. Wasn’t going to put up a fight. Was just going to let this happen to him. 

“Psimon says, you want Ra’s Al Ghul. You want to join him, to rule by his side. Psimon says, you’re obedient. Psimon says, you don’t disagree with anything he says. And Psimon says, you want desperately for him to fuck you.”

Tim felt the orders hit him all at once. They were strong, and they felt… right. He wanted to listen to them, and he felt no reason why he shouldn’t. Vaguely, he heard Ra’s dismiss Psimon. And that voice… suddenly it felt like music to his ears. He couldn’t understand why he had denied Ra’s moments ago. Ra’s was all he had ever wanted. He was the most amazing person Tim had ever come across. Tim was so undeserving of someone as god-like as Ra’s. but Ra’s had chosen him anyway. He abruptly wanted to cry, he was so unworthy. He was nothing, and Ra’s was everything. And Tim had turned him down. Why? Why would he do that. He loved Ra’s.

He had to make it up to him. Had to show him how sorry he was. He lowered his head to the floor, showing Ra’s his absolute devotion. “Ra’s, I-” He was choked off by a sob escaping his mouth. 

All of a sudden, there was a hand in his hair. Greedily, Tim leaned into the touch, nuzzling into Ra’s hand, wanting the contact more than he ever wanted anything in his life. “Hush, Beloved. It’s alright.” Beloved. Tim’s heart soared, the sudden happiness making him dizzy.

A hand found its way under Tim’s chin, lifting it up so that he could face the man he loved. The man he worshiped. 

Locking eyes with Ra’s, Tim was hit by an immediate, uncontrollable wave of desire. He would do anything, anything, to get to kiss Ra’s. To get to touch him. Every fiber of his being was telling him to lean in, close the few inches between them. But he was so undeserving of such an honor. 

“Would you like to make it up to me, Beloved?” Ra’s voice was husky, and Tim was thrilled at the thought that it was because of him.

“Yes. More than anything.” Tim’s voice came out rushed, full of hope. Ra’s was so kind. So kind to allow him a second chance. “Tell me how. I’ll do anything. All I want is to make you happy.” Ra’s brightened at that and Tim was filled with pride. 

“Prove it.” Those two words were all the permission Tim needed. He surged forward and caught Ra’s mouth with his own. Tim poured as much passion into that kiss as he could. He deepened the kiss, and when Ra’s licked his way into Tim’s mouth, he felt so grateful he could burst. 

He gave a sharp nip to Ra’s bottom lip, causing the older man to moan. The sound filled Tim with pride, but he knew he could do better. Breaking the kiss, Tim latched onto Ra’s neck, his hands coming up to unbutton the satin robe Ra’s was wearing. He needed to see more, to touch more, to kiss more.

But Ra’s pulled away, his hands coming up to grip Tim’s own, pulling them off of himself gently. “Now that is a treat you have to earn.” Ra’s smirked down at him; his eyes clouded with desire. “Strip for me, beloved, for I have wanted to see you for so very long.”

Tim stumbled over himself to obey, his hands coming up to tug off his sweatshirt. He hated himself for wearing such loose clothing, he didn’t understand why he did it. Ra’s should be able to see him whenever he wanted, should never be denied access to his body. Shame flooded him, and he tugged his jeans off with as much haste as he could muster. He reached down for his boxers, but Ra’s hands came to stop him once again. “You may leave those on for now, Beloved. You shall take care of me first, and if you’re good, maybe I will allow you to cum.”

Ra’s was so good, so good to let Tim touch him. His mouth watered as he reached for Ra’s pants, sliding the ends of his robe out of the way. The green and gold silk was cool under his fingertips, beautiful, but keeping Tim from the one thing he wanted most. 

Careful not to rip the elegant garment, he unwrapped his present, revealing Ra’s cock. Tim brought his lips to it hungrily, kissing the tip before brining the whole thing into his mouth. Ra’s groaned and grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging hard. 

God, this was all he had ever wanted. All he needed. Tim knew this is what he was made for, servicing the Demon’s Head. The most magnificent being on the planet. He was so lucky to have been chosen, so lucky to have Ra’s, who put up with him when no one else would. Ra’s wasn’t disgusted by how awful Tim was, how broken inside and useless and unimportant. He had to show Ra’s that he was grateful, thank him for keeping him around, for letting him stay. 

Tim relaxes his throat, fighting off his gag reflex, attempting to take as much od Ra’s as the man is willing to offer. He bobs his head, sucking hard, hands coming to rest against Ra’s hips for leverage. When Ra’s begins to thrust into his mouth, Tim wants to cry from gratitude and pride and love for the man above him. He can’t remember ever being this happy in his life, Ra’s had brought him in, given him a home even though he knew that Tim was unworthy. Had granted him a place by his side when even Batman himself couldn’t find a reason to. 

At that, Tim finally started to cry. 

“What’s wrong, Beloved?” Ra’s voice was full of concern. He should never have to be concerned about Tim. Tim was just glad to have the opportunity to show Ra’s his love. 

Tim was reluctant to release Ra’s cock, but he wanted to ease his worry more than he wanted to taste the man’s cum. “Nothing, Ra’s. I just love you so much. Thank you for letting me show you.” Ra’s smirked down at Tim and it was the most beautiful thing Tim had ever seen. 

Eagerly, he returned to his task., sucking and slobbering. He hoped he looked good for Ra’s; nestled between his legs, his own cock straining against his pants. 

Ra’s cums and Tim practically sobs at how good it tastes and how glad he is to get to taste it. As soon as Ra’s was finished, Tim slipped off his cock, thanks spilling from his lips before he could stop it. He was proud to have not spilled a drop, to have been good for his love. Ra’s was his whole world. All that mattered was what he wanted. 

Ra’s redressed himself, a pity to Tim, and leaned down, sliding his fingers through his hair. “You did good, Beloved.” Tim’s heart swelled. The Demon’s Head stood, so that he was once again hovering over Tim, who was still on his knees in nothing but his underwear, his own dick feeling impossibly heavy between his legs. “Now-”

Just then, the doors to Ra’s throne room burst open, revealing Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing, and the Martian Manhunter. Seeing them there was a strange juxtaposition for Tim. He watched as his former family’s faces changed. Batman’s eyes narrowed and his whole body seemed to clench in rage. It was hard to get a good reading on Jason through the hood, but his hands began to shake where they were holding his guns. That was odd. The Red Hood never quaked, his hand was impossibly steady, his aim deadly. Nightwing was always the easiest to read, and Dick looked absolutely devastated. His eyes wide and a hand coming up to his mouth in a comical gesture of shock. 

Were their reactions due to Tim’s presence? He knew they hated him, but he had never seen them so visibly upset by his existence. 

Out of nowhere, the Martian Manhunter jerked to life and flew across the room. Turning, Tim saw Psimon had reappeared through the backdoor. He had forgotten the telepath was there. Why had he been there again? The two collided, then seemed to freeze. Tim had seen this happen before. He knew they were battling psychically. 

Glancing back at the Bats, Tim found that Bruce had approached in his moment of distraction, “Stand aside, Tim” Fear spiked in his heart. They were here for Ra’s. Of course they were, but Tim wouldn’t let them have him. He owed Ra’s everything, he would be lost without him. Standing in front of Ra’s, as to block their path to him, Tim got into a fighting stance. 

“Tim? What are you doing?” A rage settled into Tim. What right did Dick have to sound so hurt? Why should he get to sit there pretending to be the victim when Tim had lost everything, only for his once family to come back and try to take the only thing in the world that gave Tim meaning. And how dare they stand there trying to hurt Ra’s. They weren’t worth the dirt beneath his boots. 

“You’re too late, Detective. Timothy is mine and he doesn’t wish to go with you. Not after everything you’ve done to him.” Bruce’s face twisted, he looked as if someone had kicked him in the gut. 

“What did you do?” Jason had wrenched off his helmet, leaving only his domino mask, and his eyes were fixed on the bruises on Tim’s knees, his swollen lips, his messy hair. A growl erupted from deep in his throat. “I’ll kill you.” 

There were too many threats from too many angles, and he didn’t have a weapon or any sort of armor. Ra’s hand came up to rest on his shoulder and Tim relaxed slightly leaning back into the touch. That earned a shout of protest from Dick. 

“Get your filthy hands off my son, Ra’s.” Bruce was pissed. If it wasn’t for Tim standing in the way, he had a feeling the Batman would have already attacked. But that didn’t make any sense. Bruce didn’t care about him. Bruce thought he was trash, he had told Tim himself. 

“Timothy seems to be enjoying himself, isn’t that right, Beloved?” As if to prove his point, he tilted Tim’s head sideways and captured his lips, the whole-time maintaining eye contact with Bruce. Tim groaned at the contact, and when Ra’s pulled away, Tim chased after his lips, wishing they were alone, wishing they could continue their earlier activities. 

Something thick and rough wrapped around Tim’s ankle, and he had just enough time to glance down at the rope before he was yanked off his feet and being dragged across the room away from Ra’s and towards the Red Hood. The second he was out of the way, Nightwing and Batman were on Ra’s. No. Tim had to get back over there. He had to help. He couldn’t let anything happen to Ra’s. But he didn’t have anything sharp to cut the rope. 

When Tim reached Jason’s feet, he attempted to sweep them out from under him, but Jason was anticipating it. He jumped over the offending limbs, then grabbed Tim’s wrists and twisted them behind his back, hauling him to his feet. Jason brought his arms around Tim’s lean body and held on to him, even as Tim fought desperately to get out of his grip, trying to get back to Ra’s. Screaming and jerking and yelling. He cursed himself, He hadn’t kept up on his training for the last week. If he hadn’t slacked off, if he had been sleeping regular hours and eating properly, he might have been able to take Jason, weapon or not. Now he had no chance. “Bruce, stop! Get off me, Jason! You have to make them stop. I love him.”

“No, you don’t, Timmy.” Tim couldn’t see Jason’s face, but he sounded wrecked. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. You didn’t deserve this.” 

Jason didn’t know anything about him. Had never bothered to know. How dare he sit there and tell him that he didn’t love Ra’s. Tim had always loved Ra’s. Looking up, he could see Bruce go in for a kick, but he was blocked by Ra’s who next turned and fought off Dick’s uppercut. While he was distracted, Batman managed to get in behind him and hit Ra’s with a swift jab to his back, causing the Demon’s Head to wince in pain. Tim’s heart broke at the sight and he fought Jason with a renewed strength. 

Dammit. He couldn’t let them hurt hum. He couldn’t-

The sound of shattering glass drew his eyes away from the brutal fight in front of him to the back of the room where he saw the case of Psimon’s head had exploded. The man collapsed to his knees, staring off into the distance at nothing.

And suddenly the spell over Tim was broken and he stopped struggling. 

Oh god. Ra’s had-

He had-

Tim’s knees buckled under him, and he would have hit the ground hard on his bruised knees if not for the arms keeping him up. “Tim-”

Weakly, Tim pushed out of the Red Hood’s grip, Jason letting him go this time. He stumbled a few feet before throwing up all over the floor. 

Panic rose up in Tim’s chest, overtaking everything. He could taste Ra’s on his tongue. 

Oh god. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Jason’s face swarm into view in front of him, but Tim couldn’t seem to focus on it. His lips were moving, but Tim couldn’t hear anything he was saying. There was a ringing in his ear. There was no air in the room. There was no air in his lungs. Tim felt a prick against his neck, then everything went black.  
______________________________

When Psimon went down, Ra’s had spun around quickly to glance at Tim. Upon seeing the boy on the floor attempting to suck air into his lungs, Ra’s face had twisted with rage and he had turned to deliver a hard blow to Batman. In doing so, he had left himself wide open for Dick to come in and deliver an escrima stick to his head, hard enough to knock the older man clean out. He had crumpled to the floor, but Bruce wasn’t really seeing the head of the League of Assassins on the ground at his feet. Instead, the image of Tim, down on his knees in front of Ra’s in nothing but his boxers was burned into this mind’s eye. The image of Tim’s devastated face as Bruce had tossed him out of his home was burned into his mind’s eye. 

Without even processing it, Bruce brought his fist down into the older mans face. Then again. And again. Ra’s had destroyed their family, traumatized his son in every way possible, all because he wanted to rape his seventeen-year-old child. His baby. 

And he had used Bruce as a part of his plot. Forced him to spew hate at his kid. His Robin. Tim had just been sexually assaulted and it was all Bruce’s fault. He had driven his son into the arms of a predator. Tim would have nightmares about this for the rest of his life. Would always know how it felt to be forcefully removed from a place of safety and he would always know what it was like to have his father tell him he was nothing and he would be stuck with the memories of Bruce’s wrath for the rest of his life. He would be able to hear Bruce telling him he was nothing and worthless and not a part of their family for the rest of his life. And it was all his fault. 

He had done this. He hit Ra’s again. He was going to kill him. He didn’t deserve to live, didn’t deserve to exist after what he had done to his child. Batman brought his fist up again, but was stopped by an arm on him. “Bruce, enough. You’ll kill him.”

He didn’t care. His boy was hurt because of this piece of trash. “Bruce! Stop it. Tim needs you.”

And just like that, all the fight bled out of Bruce and all he wanted was to get to his second youngest. Launching himself off of Ra’s, Bruce turned, desperate to lay eyes on his son. And there he was, laying in Jason’s lap, out cold. Jason had taken off his jacket and draped it around his brother.

“He was hyperventilating. He couldn’t breathe, I had to sedate him, Bruce.” 

“It’s okay. Thank you, Jason.” Bruce knelt down and scooped Tim up into his arms, cradling the boys head. He was so small. “We need to leave. Manhunter, can you stay and take care of Ra’s?”

“Of course, I shall call the Justice League for help with the cleanup. Take your son home.” Bruce nodded at him in thanks, then, carefully, made his way out of the room. He could hear Dick and Jason following him, they made a short radio call to the others, then the two of them began talking in horrified tones, attempting to comfort each other. 

The last week had been hard on all of them. They had first stormed Nada Parbat, only to discover a skeleton crew. Ra’s had known that would be the first place he would look. He had abandoned the castle. The following days had been tense. No one had been able to pull Bruce away from the search. He slept only when he had to, ate only because Alfred forced him to. The man had been incredibly forgiving in a way that Bruce didn’t deserve. They all had been. 

They should hate him for what he did. He hated himself. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel himself dragging his son down the stairs. He had been haunted by nightmares of what he had said to Tim. The first time it had happened, Bruce had been convinced it wasn’t real. Still half asleep, he had scrambled down the hall to Tim’s room, wanting to prove to himself that it was a lie. But all he had found was the remains of their family photo. Bruce had never hated himself as much as he did when he had been staring at the gaping hole in the middle of the picture. The proof of the real hole he had torn in their family. 

He had quickly searched the room, finding the section that was Tim. Gently, he had uncrumpled it. Bruce felt tears prick his eyes as he stared at the smiling face of his kid. He may never smile at him like that again. The rest of the night was spent repairing the picture. Once it was back in the frame, Bruce had brought it back to his room, in case the next time he woke up he wasn’t able to believe what he had done, then he had made his was to the Batcave to continue his search. 

They would never have found Tim if it weren’t for Jason. Jason had contacts in the League. He supposed Ra’s had been banking on Jason hating Tim and the rest of them. He must not have been informed about their reconciliation. Bruce knew without his second eldest, Tim could have been gone for months, if not years, before Bruce found him. And by the look of it, it would not have been a pleasant time for his boy. 

Bruce arrived at the cliff outside where he had parked the Batwing. Cass, Steph, Damian, and Duke were anxiously awaiting their return. Apparently, they been able to dispatch Ra’s League fairly easily. The four of them relaxed substantially once Tim came into their line of sight, but Bruce’s devastation must have shown on his face because none of them made any comments as he walked straight passed them and onto the plane. 

Settling into a seat with Tim in his lap, Bruce allowed himself to look over the boy for the first time. For the most part, he appeared fine. No physical recovery. But the trauma of the last week would not leave his son easily. Burying his head in his son’s hair, Bruce hugged him fiercely. He knew that when Tim woke up, he wouldn’t be happy to see him. For all he knew, this would be his last chance to hold his child.   
_____________________

Tim woke up slowly, his eyes felt heavy and he had to fight his way to the surface of consciousness. He was laying on something soft. Something about that seemed off… weren’t Ra’s beds ridiculously hard? This wasn’t… wait a minute. Ra’s. Ra’s had assaulted him. 

Bolting upright in bed, Tim’s eye flew open. He was in his room in Wayne Manor. A room he was sure he wouldn’t ever see again. Why would he be here? His da-. Bruce. Bruce and the others had come for him. 

They must have known what Ra’s wanted from him. And they were good, heroes. They wouldn’t leave anyone to that fate. Not even someone they resented. Or maybe Bruce had been worried about what Tim would do in enemy hands. He knew Bruce had contingencies for him. Not the others. Just him. Because something in him was broken, but they were good. Even Jason had made a switch to rubber bullets and was more of a hero than Tim. 

Whatever the reason he had been brought back, Tim needed to get out of here. He didn’t want to be here when they realized he was awake and healthy and they threw him out again. He didn’t want to live through that a second time. He couldn’t take it. All of this had been too much and now everyone would be here to tell him how disappointing he had turned out to be. They would laugh and mock him as Bruce dragged him by his hair down the stairs, again. 

And Tim didn’t want anyone’s hand in his hair, after what Ra’s had done to him. He wanted a shower, he wanted to crawl out of his skin… He wanted his dad to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay, but he didn’t have a dad anymore. Didn’t have anyone and nothing would ever be okay again. 

Tim’s face was wet. When had he started crying? He had to stop, he had to get out. He could deal with this when he was safe. Throwing the blanket back, Tim was fleetingly glad that they had put him in a clean pair of pajamas. He didn’t want to see his body right now. Pushing himself up turned out to be harder than he thought. The second he attempted to hold up his weight, his legs gave out and he slipped to the floor with a heavy thud. 

A dam burst inside of him and Tim was all out sobbing by now. He didn’t think he would ever stop. Everything had gone so wrong so quickly. 

The bedroom door burst open and Tim flinched back, remembering what had happened the last time it had been thrown open. He couldn’t see through his tears who had entered his room. “I… I’m sorry… I-” He couldn’t get the words out. But he had to let them know that he was going to leave so they didn’t take matters into their own hands. Talking took so much effort. The lump in his throat practically burning. “I’ll leave. Please, I’ll leave. Just give me a minute. Please.”

A pair of strong arms came up around him, and Tim flinched back again. They didn’t let go, but they didn’t tighten around him, either. “Shhh. Tim, it’s okay. You don’t have to leave. I don’t want you to.” Bruce. That was Bruce. Bruce was hugging him? Bruce wasn’t kicking him out? Tim didn’t understand, but Bruce continued to mutter reassurances to him and Tim leaned back into the touch, relaxing for the first time in a week. Bruce must feel guilty for what happened to Tim, that was why he was comforting him. But Tim didn’t care, right now he needed his dad. His ex-dad? It didn’t matter. He could just take the support and pretend it was real. Just for right now. Just for a moment. 

Tim wasn’t sure how long they laid there together on the bedroom floor. It must have been an awfully long while if the pins and needles in his legs were anything to go on. He didn’t want to move and break the spell. He knew this would end eventually and then he would be alone. But Bruce was Batman for a reason, and he seemed to know the second Tim had cried himself out. He shifted Tim in his arms. But he didn’t let go. 

“I owe you an apology.” Of all the things Tim had expected Bruce to say, that was the very bottom of the list. His shock must have shown on his face because Bruce looked like Tim had punched him in the gut. 

“Tim, all the things I said… what I did… I had a run in with Ra’s and Psimon earlier in the evening of that horrible night. Ra’s, he had this planned all along. He had Psimon invade my mind, make me think I hated you.” Bruce sounded on the verge of crying. A very unBruce-like sound. But Tim couldn’t focus on that right now. Hope was flooding in. Hope that he still had a family, and that he wasn’t all alone. Maybe they didn’t hate him. “Tim, look at me.”

Immediately, Tim turned to face his mentor. He looked tired. And he looked sad. “You are my son. I love you and you are always welcome in my home. Tim, you saved my life. When I lost Jason… I was so broken. I would have let all of Gotham burned around me. But you brought light back into my life. You have always been a beacon of hope. I tried so hard not to let you into my heart, to hold you at a distance so that I didn’t have to risk losing another partner. But you are so good and kind and smart. I never had any choice but to love you. My son.’ 

Tim was crying again. For years, he had told himself that he was the unwanted kid who had forced himself on his family. And then, to have Bruce confirm it… but Bruce was sitting here right now, telling him that he loved him. That he had a place here. A family. It was all he had ever wanted. All he had been to scared to wish for. 

“I said some terrible, unforgiveable things to you. And I understand if you don’t trust me anymore, or don’t want to be around me anymore. But Tim, you are the heart of this family. Please don’t punish Alfred and your siblings for my mistake. We can work something out, I can leave when you want to see them, I just want you to know that I am so sorry-”

Tim threw his arms around Bruce’s neck. The weight of the world felt like it was lifted off his shoulders. He had been struggling to keep his head above water for so long that he almost didn’t remember what it was like to be able to breathe. To be able to fall and know that someone would be there to catch him. And it felt like flying. “Bruce, it’s not your fault.”

Bruce brought his arms up, wrapping them tightly against him. “You’ve been hurt, Tim. And I should have been able to fight the control. I should have stopped it from happening. I’m so, so sorry.” 

“I don’t blame you for what happened to me. What Ra’s did… it was disgusting and repulsive… and it was his fault. I wasn’t able to fight off the commands either, and if that’s not my fault, then it’s not yours either.” Bruce jerked against him at that. “Tim, none of this is your fault.”

“Then it isn’t yours either.” Tim pulled back slightly as he said it, locking his eyes on Bruce’s. He knew it would be awhile before Bruce believed it. He would always find something to blame himself for, he was like Tim in that regard. 

There was a question Tim wanted to ask, but he was still afraid of the answer. He didn’t want to see the look on Bruce’s face when he asked. Didn’t want to know if there was any reluctance, but if he didn’t ask now, he never would. And that would just lead to spiraling later. “Does this mean I can come home?”

Bruce held on tighter at the hesitancy in his voice. He had really messed up with Tim, even before this whole ordeal. His kid thought so little of himself. That didn’t happen overnight. And Bruce had allowed it to fester, but no more. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure his kid knew he was loved and cherished. And wanted. “Of course, you can. I would love nothing more than for you to be back home, where you belong.”

Tim smiled for the first time in a week. “Thanks, Dad.”


End file.
